


i'm coming apart at the seams (doc, there's a hole where something was)

by casualmarches



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, everything sucks and i wanna give pete a hug, i always insist on angst instead of happy things and it shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualmarches/pseuds/casualmarches
Summary: Mikey has always loved too fast, too broken, too carelessly. He stumbles into relationships and strings them along like a child running with a kite. He's zero to hundred in the blink of an eye, dopamine in the brain and intensity in the veins.That's what lures people in. The exhilaration, the adrenaline, the breathlessness and heart pounding.It's what lured Pete in, and inevitably, it's what destroys him, too.





	i'm coming apart at the seams (doc, there's a hole where something was)

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a small snippet in my notes a couple weeks ago and i finally got around to cleaning it up so i decided to post it
> 
> i like sad stuff too much

What if's are interesting. People torment themselves with their own thoughts, thoughts filled to the brim with past regrets and unfulfilled dreams.

 _What if.._ Pete Wentz had never crossed paths with Mikey Way?

 _What if.._ he had never let him in? Never let him kiss him, touch him, empty his head of all the doubts and fears just to keep them for future reference?

 _What if.._ he was okay?

It's half past two in the morning.

It's not like that's unusual.

Pete stares at the wall, the dull orange from the street lamps outside highlighting it in strange ways. His eyes threaten to close, but he feels wired, like he's connected to a firework, set to the highest possible frequency, white noise blocking everything else out.

His phone is next to his head, under the pillow with the bottom half still visible. The last time he checked it was over an hour ago, but he knows that even if he did again, there wouldn't be any notifications. He doesn't get much of those, nowadays.

Everything goes blurry all of a sudden, and Pete realizes he's crying. Hot, wet tears slowly stream down his face, and he lets it happen, because he doesn't have the energy to wipe them away.

Over the ringing in his ears, he can faintly register someone stumbling around in the living room. A few seconds later, the bedroom door opens.

The overwhelming smell of alcohol - and sex - hits Pete before anything else. It's like a cloud, a fog surrounding Mikey's entire body as he clumsily climbs under the blanket and collapses with a soft grunt.

It's silent.

"I know you're awake," Mikey slurs to Pete's back, but he doesn't move.

"I know you're awake," he repeats.

He still doesn't answer. The tears have stopped, leaving invisible track marks on his cheeks as proof they were ever even there in the first place.

"I'm sorry."

Pete had believed that, once. It sounds as genuine and real as it did the first time, the voice crack, the stutter in the middle, the choked noise coming from his throat like he's about to cry. He had believed it, but all it did was make the next time hurt so much worse.

And the thing, Pete knows, is that he could still love him. He could sit here in the aftermath of what tears him apart, could run his hands over every sharp edge, every jutting corner, every hickey and bite mark he didn't leave, and love him. He could wrap himself up in this fantasy, pull the dreams around his shaking shoulders, ignore the hollow feeling in his chest, and pretend that he's okay.

The thing is that he could do all of that and more, but it still wouldn't mean a damn thing.

Mikey presses himself against Pete. In another world, he would shove him away, tell him to go to hell. In another world, he wouldn't be so weak, so desperate to cling onto any sense of stability.

In this world, though, Pete breaks.


End file.
